Out of Practice (28 page)

Holly turned to look at Elsie, whose hands were clasped together in excitement and pride.

‘What do I do now?’ Holly asked quietly.

Elsie smiled at her gently and gave a little shrug. ‘You carry on, my darling girl. Every time you make a decision. I’m sure there’s some psychobabble mumbo-jumbo book you can
read, but I call it Personal Honesty and that was the only thing I took away from marriage number two. Be honest with yourself about what you really like and your motivations for choosing something
you don’t.

‘Honestly, Holly, you wouldn’t worry half as much about what other people think of you, if you realised how rarely they actually do.

‘And now that all those nasty little
shoulds
are dead to you, you can really start thinking about what you really
want
to do. What you actually – if you stop and
think about it – can’t go another moment without doing.

‘Find your passion, your drive, your bliss . . .’ Elsie was on a roll, her arms flailing artistically, until she suddenly stopped and clasped Holly’s hand. ‘Better yet,
think of it this way: how can you possibly ask for what you want, if you don’t even know what it is yet!’

Half an hour later, having established that the twins were fast asleep on the sofa and with a cup of Earl Grey in her hand, Holly walked through to the kitchen to find Elsie
tipping the remains of the cocktails over a sickly looking jasmine plant and stacking the dirty glasses in the refrigerator.

‘Let me,’ she said, pulling out a chair for Elsie and putting on the kettle. She logged away to check all Elsie’s other appliances for stray crockery on her next visit and
poured out another cup of tea, before perching at Elsie’s kitchen counter, still trying to digest the earlier life lesson. Even just chatting casually here, Holly couldn’t quite believe
how often the word ‘should’ tripped off her tongue, how often she threw in a ‘but’ or made excuses for the people in her world.

By the time they were halfway down the chocolate digestives and the tea was cold in its pot, Elsie was trying to make Holly understand that her friendship with Lizzie wasn’t broken, just a
little fractured under the strain of being twisted so much in one direction.

‘But, but, but, my arse,’ declared Elsie eventually. ‘Don’t look so shocked. Lizzie is Lizzie and for now, she’s sitting this round out and we’re talking
about you. You. What do
you
get from the friendship? Is she fun, supportive, kind?’

‘She’s all those things,’ said Holly slowly, ‘but she can also be a little controlling and maybe even a bit cruel sometimes. Like the other day, I’d spent hours
getting ready and when I got there, she made all these comments about how I looked, what I was wearing and, you know, trying to be helpful, starting giving me tips on how to make a bit more effort.
So I just let her go on. I couldn’t bear to admit that I
had
made an effort. That was how I look when I’ve made an effort! And I liked how I looked. Well, I did when I left
home anyway . . .’

‘Why do you give her that power then, Holly? She can’t make you feel inferior if you don’t give her your consent. Why not say shut up? Bite me? Sod off?’

Holly laughed at the incongruity of the blaspheming coming from such an elegant, iconic senior citizen. ‘I know, I know. It was just – easier?’

‘In the short term, maybe,’ said Elsie insightfully, ‘but then the slights just keep on building until there’s a blow-out.’

‘Like last week? With the wine?’

‘Indeed. Did you mean what you said to her?’

‘That she drinks too much? Well, yeah. She’s like a bloody fish. When she’s happy, when she’s sad, when she’s tired, when she’s not. Hey, it’s
Wednesday, let’s open some wine! It was like the elephant in the room that nobody dared mention.’

‘Or the goldfish,’ quipped Elsie, ‘the koi carp, if you will. But had you stopped to consider that it’s her right to do that. And not forgetting that you don’t
actually like wine. Now, be honest, if she’d been drinking some vile Vimto and vodka concoction, would you have joined in a little more?’

‘Not at four o’clock with a houseful of toddlers, no!’ Holly paused for a moment, to access the new honesty she’d found. ‘Okay, well maybe one, but no more until
the children were in bed . . .’ she admitted reluctantly.

‘So, now we’re finding our limits. Everyone has them – a different place they’re prepared to draw the line. And Lizzie’s life is all about Lizzie. I don’t
know her very well, but she doesn’t strike me as the kind of person to put other people first. If she’s helping you out, there’s probably a hidden agenda,’ said Elsie
shrewdly. ‘I dare say the same applies to your friendship. Maybe it’s time to think about what
you
get out of the relationship?’

Holly was stumped for a moment, but Elsie carried on regardless, clearly adoring having a captive and attentive audience. ‘Stop thinking about Lizzie, or Milo, or those adorable little
rug-rats currently drooling on my chinoiserie. Think about you for a moment. You said you wanted to find a new sin. Well then, tell me, what do
you
want?’

‘To be happy?’ offered Holly apologetically after an extended pause.

‘Hmmm. Too vague. And why the question in your voice? It’s answers we’re looking for. Goodness me, Holly Graham. Get some bloody gumption. If you could do anything, right now
– no kids, no husband, no morning surgery – what would you do?’ Elsie challenged her.

Holly sat there, slightly tipsy and completely dumbfounded, ‘I honestly don’t know,’ she confessed. She could feel tears crowding into her throat, forcing her to swallow. She
felt completely blind-sided, as if she’d suddenly put on glasses with the correct prescription. ‘That’s awful. I mean, how can I possibly . . . Oh, that’s bad, isn’t
it? I should know what would make me happy.’

‘Should?’ queried Elsie with a sigh. ‘Really?’

Holly shook her head, not even hearing Elsie’s rebuke. ‘How can I possibly ask for what I want, when I don’t even know what it is,’ she repeated Elsie’s earlier
statement as if it were the new Holy Grail and she was seeing clearly for the very first time. ‘Shit,’ she said succinctly and with feeling after a moment, before the nervous laughter
bubbled into her voice. ‘I’m trying to work out if that’s lame or merely pathetic.’

‘I’d say it’s a little of both, sweetheart,’ said Elsie with a smile, reaching out to take Holly’s hand in her own. ‘But it’s also what you might want
to call, a
start
.’

Holly had begun to question her sanity as she’d pushed open the bathroom window earlier that morning and the cold air had rushed in. It was all very well agreeing to
these things in theory, but she suspected that Larkford’s Annual Wild Swim might prove to be a little more challenging in practice. She’d lost count of the number of patients and
colleagues who had invited her and her family to join in and Grace had been very clear that, in terms of local camaraderie, the wild swim was definitely A Big Deal.

Talking to Elsie last night had therefore sealed the proverbial deal. Holly wanted to do this; she wanted the twins to do this – and just because Milo was dead set against it,
shouldn’t really make any difference. In the same way that she secretly let the boys climb trees, even though Milo had decreed otherwise.

She’d surveyed herself critically in the long mirror, tugging down her swimsuit to cover her bottom. Her trusty old Speedo was fine for ploughing up and down the pool at the local leisure
centre, but it was hardly the ideal apparel for socialising with the entire community.

Holly had tentatively floated the notion of a wetsuit to Grace, but the feedback had been clear – wetsuits were only for the very young, the very old and the medically questionable.

Now, an hour later and shivering on the river bank, she watched the twins run around excitedly in theirs and tried not to feel envious. They shrieked happily in their little surf shoes and
splashed at the edge while Holly kept them under close surveillance whilst attempting to blow up all four of their water-wings. ‘Bloody, buggery things,’ she muttered under her breath
as they refused to inflate fully.

A voice at her shoulder made her jump and all the air came whistling out again. ‘You’re bright and early, Holly. Ready for a little pagan ritual?’

Holly, flushed and breathless from her exertions with the water wings, turned to find Taffy Jones beside her, a well-worn rugby shirt pulled on over his long baggy swim shorts. She huddled
deeper into her padded coat. ‘Pagan what now?’

‘Well, technically it’s the first day of Spring today, isn’t it? That’s what we’re celebrating. Although, it crossed my mind that Mother Nature is having a cheeky
laugh at our expense – the thermometer in my car says it’s only eleven degrees. Bit brisk for my taste.’

Holly automatically righted Tom on his feet as he began to slip on the wet grass. ‘Can’t help being a bit jealous of the kids’ wetsuits to be honest.’

‘Well, at least you’re not wearing one,’ Taffy replied. ‘Definite faux pas around here. You’ll be getting loads of Brownie points anyway, just for turning up with
the twins – they like newcomers who embrace the old traditions – even the bonkers ones.’

‘Speaking of bonkers, no Reginald and Ludo this morning?’ Holly grinned.

‘Ooh no, we have to save those guys for very special occasions or they lose their magic,’ he replied seriously. ‘No Milo this morning either?’ Taffy’s tone was
casual, but he seemed inordinately interested in the answer.

Holly was at a loss for a reply for a moment. She really didn’t want to let on about Milo’s reaction to the invitation. He’d been rude and disrespectful about the locals, their
loopy customs and what he called ‘Holly’s desperate need to be liked and fit in’. Privately, Holly thought that his extreme overreaction probably had more to do with Milo’s
aversion to all things ‘nature’ and his weakness as a swimmer, but he’d certainly lost no opportunity to undermine her confidence in the venture. He’d made it clear that if
the twins were ill afterwards, it was her own lookout and his parting shot about her swimsuit this morning had left her feeling like a target for a Green Peace rescue mission.

Taffy didn’t seem to miss a trick as he took in the emotions flitting across her face. Instead of waiting for her to reply and further incriminate her husband’s character, he simply
took the limp armband from her grasp and inflated it with one slow steady puff. As he crouched down beside her, he called out to the boys, ‘Okay then, who wants to play
hovercrafts?’

Soon they were both busy kitting out the boys and the awkwardness passed. Grace and Lucy ambled over to join them, Grace bearing a huge picnic basket and armfuls of towels. George Kingsley was
wandering around with his beloved Nikon and snapped a few joyfully huddled photos, pre-swim and shivering on the river bank, their faces glowing with expectation and excitement.

‘I’m a bit nervous actually,’ Holly confided to Grace. ‘So, since you’ve talked me into this pagan madness, can you fill me in on the plan?’

Grace beamed. ‘I’m so pleased you came. I know it probably doesn’t seem like much to you, but to us . . . Did you know that this is the 65th Annual Spring Swim at the river
club? I guess we all feel privileged to still have a river swimming club here – not many places do any more, you know. We were one of the first and we’re one of the last. There’s
an amazing photo on the wall of The Kingsley Arms of everyone here about forty years ago, with all the ladies in their flowery swim hats. It’s rather special actually.’ She squeezed
Holly’s sleeve happily. ‘Shall we get over to the start and we can hear the speeches?’

Making sure she had both squirming little boys clasped tightly on each hip, Holly followed the group to the sloping part of the river bank, where a small dais had been erected. George Kingsley
put down his camera and picked up the loudhailer. ‘Well, good morning to you all. It’s such a treat to see so many of you here – young and old. It’s the first day of
Spring!’ Some wag in the crowd let rip with a huge Woo-Hoo and everyone fell about laughing. There was such a feeling of bonhomie and anticipation buzzing through the crowd, that Holly
didn’t miss a beat when Taffy scooped one of the boys out of her arms and lifted him effortlessly onto his shoulders for a better view. George’s welcome speech reminded them all of the
history of the Swim and how traditions like this kept communities alive. He urged them to take part in the raffle that had quickly been hustled together – a way of raising some funds for
Hattie and Lance while he underwent treatment. Holly felt quite choked up actually, as she realised that she was truly a part of this rather special event, rather than simply a bystander. A place
in this wonderful community was hers for the asking.

‘So then, ladies and gents, when you’re ready, Spring has sprung!’ George blew sharply on a whistle and the hardier swimmers amongst them waded straight into the chilly water
without hesitation. Holly was about to plop Tom down on the ground so she could take off her coat, when it hit her. It was Ben who was perched up on Taffy’s shoulders. Ben who was cheering
and shrieking in excitement whilst holding on to Taffy’s hair for dear life, a huge smile illuminating his little face. Taffy looked over at her, his eyes dancing, and she felt a tiny shiver
at the back of her neck that had nothing to do with the temperature.

‘Let the madness begin, eh, Holls?’ he said. He swung Ben down into his arms to check that the armbands were still firmly attached. ‘Do you want a hand?’

‘Erm . . .’ mumbled Holly, still rather thrown by the ease with which Taffy had clearly bonded with her tricky little boy. ‘Pick a twin and make sure he doesn’t
drown?’ she ventured, still convinced he would plump for Tom as the easier option. She was loving the fact that he was prepared to help her with her madcap parenting. Twins were great but it
didn’t take a health and safety expert to point out that a one-to-one ratio was an absolute must for small children at the Spring Swim. Grace had volunteered to fill Milo’s
conspicuously empty shoes, but with a wave and a smile she had disappeared into the crowd once she clocked that Taffy had it covered.